Page 34 of The Music of Love

“She is just teasing you, Portia,” Freddie said. “All I told her was that your Mr. Harrington was reclusive and reserved.”

“And wealthy,” Serena added around a mouthful of biscuit.

“Yes, he’s all three of those things,” Portia admitted.

“And?” Serena prodded.

Portia shrugged. “And nothing. He has offered me employment—even after my despicable behavior, so I am . . . contented.”

Serena’s eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth.

“I just received a letter from Miles,” Freddie said, cutting Serena a stern look.

The exuberant Frenchwoman heeded Freddie’s hint and they spoke about their absent friends for another quarter of an hour, when a huge yawn seized Portia.

“You poor dear,” Freddie said. “What beasts we are to keep you awake after that journey. Let’s get you to your room and I’ll have some warm milk sent up.”

“That sounds divine,” Portia said, pushing wearily to her feet.

Serena gave her a speculative look. “Yes, get some sleep. I’m busy tomorrow morning, but I will place myself at your disposal and we can spend the entire afternoon and evening together.” Her friend’s wicked smile boded ill for Portia’s peace of mind.

Stacy had mixed emotions as he watched the drab, gray buildings flicker past the window. He was still looking forward to a few days in Portsmouth, but it was for entirely different reasons than a month ago. He would visit a brothel, but this time he wouldn’t be engaging in his usual transactions.

The brothel in question belonged to Katherine Charring, the madam who’d been Stacy’s first lover and was now his dearest friend. Kitty was his only friend—at least the only one who knew him—aside from his aunt, his old nurse, and a few tenants. How pitiful was that? His best friend was also his madam, if no longer his lover.

Stacy frowned at the uncharitable thought; so what if Kitty was a madam? She was a wonderful person and—with the exception of Signora Stefani—a damn sight better company than most “proper” females in his experience.

His lips curved into a smile as he recalled that evening in the stables; well, perhaps the Signora was not entirely proper. But she was excellent company and he’d enjoyed their many dinner conversations, as well as the discussions about music they had every day during his lessons. Still, he could hardly call her a friend. He had plenty of acquaintances, business associates, and employees, but friends had been harder to accumulate.

Kitty held a special place in his heart and always would. He’d gone to her a bruised and broken young man after Penelope had broken his heart and she’d helped make him whole.

Although it had been years since they’d had anything but a platonic relationship, Stacy still recalled the day Kitty told him she could no longer be his lover.

“You are too important to me to be a client any longer.” She’d been lying naked against him, her redhead’s skin almost as pale as his own.

He’d been disappointed by her words although he didn’t disagree with them. “Tired of me, are you?” he’d teased.

“Don’t be daft. As a matter of fact, I was recently accused of trying to keep you all to myself.”

Stacy had laughed. “I somehow doubt your girls are lining up for me.”

“Yes, actually, they are,” Kitty said with no little asperity. “I wish you’d understand that people stare not only because of your color, but also because you are a very handsome man.”

He’d been too contented after their last bout of lovemaking to argue. “You almost make me believe you, my dear. You are an excellent madam, madam.”

She’d slapped his leg. “When a woman of my experience tells you anything about matters between the sexes you would be wise to listen.”

Stacy had wisely kept his laughter to himself and she’d continued.

“I’ve seen more naked male bodies than I care to recall,” she’d confessed with unusual candor. “I’ve rarely had the pleasure of lying beneath one as perfect as yours. Only one other, if I am to be completely honest.” He still recalled the yearning in her voice when she spoke those words. “You are special to me, Stacy, too special to be my customer any longer.”

“Then marry me, Kitty.” That hadn’t been the first time he’d asked her. He had no qualms about marrying a prostitute and he refused to despise the woman he chose to lie with.

“You fool,” she’d whispered, rolling him onto his back and lowering her body over his. “One of these days I’ll stun you by accepting.”

That had been almost eight years ago. Stacy still went to her house in Plymouth but now he went to other women, women who were lovely and gave him pleasure, but he had never become friends with any of the others. After he’d sated his body’s needs, he always spent time with Kitty to feed his soul. They argued politics, books, or anything else friends bickered about. They went out to plays and once even took a week-long trip to London together. But still she would not marry him.

“You love me, Stacy, but you are not in love with me,” she’d said the last time he’d asked her, less than a year ago.